


Too Little, Too Late

by clgfanfic



Series: Soldier of Fortune Inc - Way He Talks [4]
Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "Deja Vu."  The twosome need to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Little, Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Don't Ask, Don't Tell #4 under the pen name Caryn Mayo.
> 
> This story is set during "Déjà vu" and "Apres vu."

          Margo felt numb as she walked into the Silver Star with her teammates.  Miles away, in the hospital at Coronado Naval Air Station, Matt Shepherd lay, fighting for his life.  She tried to console herself with the fact that he'd survived the emergency surgery, a procedure that had lasted for almost six hours.  And that was something the doctors hadn't been sure would happen.  But he was far from being out of danger.

          "I'm gonna head out to the airfield," Chance said, the exhaustion in his voice reflecting how tired and drained they all felt.

          "Want some company, mate?" C.J. asked him.

          The handsome black pilot regarded the Brit for a moment, then nodded, saying, "Yeah.  Yeah, I would.  Thanks."

          "We'll stay in touch," C.J. assured Margo as he reached out to give her arm a gentle squeeze.

          Margo nodded her thanks.  "I'll be here."

          Standing not far away, Benny Ray's eyes rounded slightly.  Margo didn't usually stay at the old hotel, preferring the privacy of her condo when she needed to escape.  But right now she probably didn't want to escape, he decided.  She probably needed to feel like she was close to Matt, and the only way to do that was to stay at the hotel where his essence permeated everything.

          "Get some rest," Chance told her, stroking her cheek with his knuckles before he gave her a quick hug.

          She nodded again, fighting back tears as she watched the two men leave.  When they were gone, she turned to Benny Ray, in control once more, and asked, "Want some coffee?"

          "Yeah, thanks," he said, glancing around the quiet basement.

          She knew he felt the same way she did – empty and hurting.  He was looking for Matt without even realizing it, but Matt wasn't there.  He might never be back.

          Shaking off the morbid thought, she headed purposefully to the kitchen and prepared a pot of coffee.  Standing next to the counter, she watched the pot slowly fill.  When she went to take down two mugs, she realized her hands had started shaking, badly.

          Silently from behind her, Benny Ray reached over her shoulder and took down the cups.

          "Thanks," she said, her voice low and strained.

          Margo stepped aside, letting him fill the cups for them.  The sun had risen an hour before and she fought back a yawn.  None of them had gotten any sleep for nearly thirty-six hours.  Taking the cup he offered her, she followed him back to the large wooden table and sat down across from him.

As she sipped at the coffee, she found herself focusing again and again on the sniper's face.  Beard stubble blurred his square jaw and she fought an urge to reach out and see if it was soft or bristly.  His hair was the color of dark mahogany, rich and thick, but cut far too short in her opinion.  It shone under the strong light, the lighter highlights visible.  His skin was unblemished and clean.  All of them had taken showers at the hospital, one of Trout's men having delivered clean clothes and the Suburban so they could drive themselves home after they knew Matt had made it through the surgery. 

          "Touch and go" the surgeon had told them when he'd come out to give them the good news.  She shivered and returned to her study of Benny Ray.

          The cut over his right eye he'd sustained in Mexico was held closed by two butterfly stitches, already beginning to heal.  And, for the first time, she noticed the old scar at his left temple, wondering briefly how he'd gotten it.  One day she'd have to ask him.

She studied his eyes, deep and blue and sad.  A lost man, or a man buried in despair, had eyes like that.  She knew he must be blaming himself for what had happened, but she had no words of comfort to offer.  Not that she blamed him.  She just didn't have the words to lift the shadows she saw in the pale blue depths.

          When her cup was empty she pushed it to the center of the table, saying, "I need some sleep."

          He nodded and together they climbed the stairs to their second-story suites.  With mumbled goodnights they each headed to their own rooms.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sleep eluded Margo, despite a tiredness that made her muscles rubbery.  She finally sighed heavily and forced herself out of bed, intending to go down and fix herself a cup of hot cocoa in the hopes that might help her sleep.  The door was open as she passed Benny Ray's room and she saw he was sitting on the edge of his bed, still dressed in his jeans, even thought his flannel shirt had been tossed across the back of a chair and his feet were bare.

          "Can't sleep either?" she asked softly.

          Benny Ray turned his head the instant he heard Margo's voice in the doorway.  "Nope," he admitted.

          She stepped into his room, saying before she even realized what she was thinking, "Take off your jeans and lay on your stomach.  I'll give you a rub-down."

          He looked up at her, his eyes rounding.  "You don't have to do that," he said.  "You're as tired as I am."  She was wearing something short and white.  Too short.  Too white.  He swallowed hard.  She yawned, but didn't move.  "Hell, I should offer you the same thing."

          "Too bad.  I beat you to it.  Now, lay down," she ordered.

          Knowing that he wasn't going to get rid of her that easily, he quickly stepped out of the jeans, then sat on the edge of the bed again.  "You sure?"

"Yes."

He heaved over onto his stomach with a sigh, then felt her warm hands moving over his back.

          "My God, Benny Ray, no wonder you can't sleep, you're tied in knots."

          In spite of himself, he could feel a smile forming.  There were back rubs and there were back rubs.  On the rare occasions she offered one, Margo took a tight

muscle as a personal affront.  She used whatever worked – the heel of her hands, her fists, her fingers.  He hadn't felt the stress flow out of his body like this in weeks, maybe months.

It startled him when he became aroused.  He would have sworn he was so tired he was dead inside, and not just dead to the touch of a woman, but dead to feelings – any feelings – right now.  He couldn't afford feelings right now.  If he did, he would be overwhelmed with guilt and anger at himself.  He didn't have the shot, and Matt might die because of his failure.  His best friend.  The man the woman he loved was in love with.  What had he cost Margo?

But he was feeling and he didn't want to.  He tried to cut the emotions off, but it was impossible.  He felt longing, desire, and soul-deep pain.

With an effort, he forced his mind to stillness, hoping his arousal would fade along with the unwanted thoughts.

          "You'll sleep now," she whispered with utter confidence several minutes later.

          One instant she was climbing off the bed.  The next she was lying flat next to him on the mattress.  His palm cradled her head and his mouth lowered on hers.  Her lashes shuttered down.  She tasted like surprise, like freshness, like wonder.  She kissed like she wanted to share those things with him.  The ache that exploded inside him was madness.

          Margo, however, was swept up in far sweeter emotions.  Benny Ray tasted of such loneliness, such desperation.  As soft as a secret, desire whispered though her body.  The sniper's need called to something private and feminine and powerful inside of her – the need to give, the need to touch, share, heal.

          She was the one who surged closer.  A woman could drown in the hush of shared pain, the stillness of despair… the liquid sensation of flesh on flesh.  Thinking of Benny Ray, what he wanted, what he needed, was so easy to embrace.  The sudden roaring in her ears was not.

          Matt.

In a second's flash, dread pulsed though Margo on a violent wave of nausea.  Heart pounding, she lurched up and away – away from skin, away from heat, away from contact.  She hadn't told Matt she loved him.  He might die, and she hadn't told him how she felt.

Benny Ray had told her to tell him, but she'd never found the right time, the right context, the right words.  What if she lost him, and he never knew how much she loved him?

          "Margo?" Benny Ray asked.  "God, I'm sorry."  His fingers closed on her wrist.  "I'm a damned ass.  I–"

          "It's okay."  The catch in her throat was huge and thick and his impossibly gentle tenor only made it worse.  She wanted him.  She wanted him to hold her, love her, make her forget, but she couldn't, not with Matt lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life.

          She pushed at his hand, freeing herself from his grasp.  She escaped from his room and fled past hers.  In Matt's basement office, she huddled on the end of the small couch, knees drawn up.  She closed her eyes tight, but that didn't stop stark, raw images from flashing thought her head.  Ugly pictures: Matt staggering down the hillside… her hands, covered in blood, as she and Benny Ray tried frantically to stem the flow from his legs in the back of the truck… watching the spark in his eyes slowly die during the chopper flight to Coronado… taking his hand in hers in the ER, wanting to kiss it, wanting to tell him right then and there how she felt, but she couldn't – didn't.

          Why had she waited?

          She knew – part of the answer, anyway – and he was standing in the doorway, watching her.  She looked up.  The sniper offered her a smile, a soothing, reassuring, relax-Margo-I'll-never-touch-you-again-as-long-as-you-live smile.  She sighed, knowing he didn't understand.  And if he said one word in that tender, gentle tenor he'd adopted earlier, she was probably going to burst into tears.

          "I think I should leave," he said softly.

          Definitely burst into tears.  She gulped back a sob and shook her head, managing to get out a strangled, "No… please.  I'm sorry."

          She heard him sigh and he walked over, sitting down on the other end of the couch – as far away from her as he could get.

"Margo, what's wrong?"

          It took her a moment to swallow past the pain, but then she said, "I didn't tell him.  I never told him.  I don't know why, but I didn't, and now–"  The words caught in her throat, making her feel sick again.  She shook her head.

          "Oh, Christ," he said softly, scooting closer and pulling her into his arms and holding her while she cried until she had no more tears left.  Then he carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs to her room, placing her back into her bed.

          She looked up at him and knew she wanted him.  She could feel it like a soft hum in her blood.  A shiver touched her, an echo of the panicked vibrations she'd felt earlier, a feeling of vulnerability, but she quickly blocked the sensation.  All she really needed was sleep.  It had been a long, upsetting two days.  Maybe after some sleep she could think straight, sort out her feelings for the two most important men in her life.  She needed to do that, before the confusion destroyed her.

          He pulled the covers up and tucked her in, then leaned over and tenderly kissed her forehead.  "Sleep now," he told her.

          Her eyes closed even as she opened her mouth to thank him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Margo slept like the dead for almost ten hours, and even then the groans she heard seemed half out of a dream and she wasn't sure she'd even heard them.  She got up, making a trip to the bathroom, then started to return to bed, but the sound echoed softly down the hallway again.

Night air chilled her skin as she groped through the hall and she noted absently that she'd slept the entire day away and wondered how Matt was doing.  Surely they would have called if there had been any trouble…

She heard a third groan when she reached the sniper's door.

"It's me, Benny Ray," she said, stepping into his room and moving quickly for the bed.

"Huh?"

Reaching him, she could make out his face, ash-white against the dark pillows.  "What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothin'… just sore, I guess," he admitted.  "Would you, uh, mind sittin' here for a little while?"

Her stomach bunched with alarm.  Benny Ray never complained, and he never asked for comfort.  Sleepily she guessed he was having nightmares and was just too proud to admit it.  Well, he'd been there for her when she'd needed him earlier, the least she could do was return the favor now.  Awkwardly, she sank to a sitting position on top of his covers.

"You want to talk?" she asked.

"No…  You?"

"No," she admitted.  For her, it was enough just to be close to him, and she knew it was the same for him.  He just didn't want her to leave; she could hear that clearly in his voice.  She reached out and stroked his face and hair as her mind raced, trying to sort out the complicated tangle of her feelings for him and for Matt.

Twice she tried to slip out of the bed, believing him asleep.  Twice his hand grabbed for hers like the bad dreams were still chasing him.  Eventually her head suddenly tilted back and her breathing evened.  She never noticed when he eased her down to the pillow beside him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Her eyes still closed, Margo suddenly became aware that her thigh was wedged between his and her breasts were cuddled against his chest as if they belonged there.  The smell of his sleep-warm skin and the intimate press of his arousal sent potent messages to her bloodstream.

His voice was a soft, amused murmur.  "I've never met a more brazen, wanton, snuggler."  Her head was cradled back in the crook of his arm when he tilted her chin up.  The way he looked at her made heat cluster in the lower part of her body.  "You sleep well?"

"I… yes."

"Don't worry," he assured her.  "No one's comin' on to you like a freight train – even if the inclination's there.  Sorry 'bout that."

"Benny Ray?"

"Yeah?"

She took his mouth like she could erase both of their doubts and nightmares.  She wanted to give him something that mattered: the honesty of what she felt for him.  This was just between Benny Ray and her and a new sunlit morning.  Nothing else was going to intrude, because she wasn't going to let it.

"No," he said, shaking his head sadly.  His palms framed her face, holding her still.  "I can't do this.  Damn it, Margo, I love you, but– I'm not the one ya want t' be with."

She held his gaze.  The scold in his voice was like a whisper of spring wind and she understood what he was saying.  And as crazy as it sounded, even to her, she knew she loved Matt, but Benny Ray, too.  They were about a different as two men could be, but she loved them both.

She ached suddenly, inside, outside, all over.

"Yes, you are," she replied as she arched closer.  Her lips touched his again, coaxing his desire, inviting a flood of it.  Her hand shimmered over his skin, friction hot.

Benny Ray's mouth trailed down and tested the flavor of the skin on her collarbone.  "Be sure," he whispered hoarsely.  "Be sure you want this, because…"

She knew he was warning her.  She let her breasts drag against him.  Like a man tested beyond endurance, his kisses suddenly turned earthy, wild, potent.  His palm brushed up her nightshirt and swept over bare breast, side, hip.

She had always thought Benny Ray was a demanding lover, but she hadn't known that another human being could make her soul feel this bare, this naked, this open, this… crushable.

There it was again.  Dread pooled in her stomach like panic.  She couldn't lose him.  She couldn't lose either one of them before she had the opportunity to tell them exactly how she felt, what she wanted.  They had to know what they meant to her – _both_ of them.

"Hey, it's all right.  Easy… I lost my head, I'm sorry."

She felt his fingers, not quite steady, trying to smooth back her hair and realized she was clinging to him, crying again.  Her voice was as thick as the tears in her eyes.  "It's not you.  It's me.  I don't believe I did this to you twice.  Teasing a man is pretty sick.  Not to mention stupid."

She heard him take in air on an angry rush.  "That ain't what happened, and you know it," he growled, then hesitated.  "Talk to me, Margo.  Tell me what's goin' on."

"I can't.  Not yet."  The words were a snap from her soul.  Benny Ray's eyes, his soft, rolling drawl, his closeness, were suddenly an unbearable temptation to fall apart in little pieces.  She escaped his arms and jerked awkwardly out of bed.  "I'm sorry, Benny Ray."  There was nothing else to say.

 _Wonderful, Margo_ , she chided herself as she fled.  _You've been playing with that man's life and emotions like they were toys, and you can't even handle your own.  How could you do that to him?  You've got to get it together and talk to them before you lose one or both…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The minute Margo's Jag left the parking lot Benny Ray left his room, silently berating himself as he headed for his motorcycle.  He went straight for the freeway, intending to make the trip to the hospital and hoping the drive would help clear his mind.  It didn't.

          Allowing himself to fall in love with Margo Vincent had to be the stupidest thing he'd ever done.  He'd known from the start that she loved Matt, and that Shepherd loved her, too.  They were just having the devil's own time admitting the fact to each other.

          He wasn't who she needed.  She needed Matt, so he'd damn well better live.  Matt would know what to do, how to help her, talk to her.  Matt would be able to help her deal with her emotions.

          Benny Ray had no illusions.  He wasn't the right man for her.  She deserved better than a poor country boy.  Besides, he'd failed her.  Every time he'd tried to help, he'd just hurt her, reminding her who she really wanted.  He couldn't let that happen again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          He found her at the hospital.  Matt was still unconscious, but he was stronger, holding his own.  The doctors were becoming cautiously optimistic.

          Later, standing outside the major's room, he watched as Margo sat next to his bed, his hand in both of hers as she spoke quietly to him.  He wondered what she was saying, but was glad he couldn't hear her words.  She was probably telling him how much she loved him, how much she needed him to get well, and he fervently hoped he listened to her.

          Turning to leave, he stopped when he heard her voice behind him.  "Benny Ray, we need to talk."

          He glanced over his shoulder, wondering how she'd known he was there.  He'd been sure she hadn't seen him.  "Sure," he said, not wanting to argue with her in the hospital.

          "Meet me back at the Silver Star this evening?" she asked, her tone hopeful and pleading at the same time.

          He nodded reluctantly.

          Chance and C.J. walked up to join them.  "How's he doing?" the pilot asked, looking worried.

          Benny Ray filled them in on everything the doctor had told him earlier.  Margo returned to Matt's bedside.

          "And her?" C.J. asked quietly when the sniper finished.

          Benny Ray shrugged.  "Not too sure."

          "She'll be fine," Chance told them.  "She's strong."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Benny Ray looked up when Margo joined him in the basement of the Silver Star.  She was carrying a bag of Chinese takeout.

          "You have anything to eat yet?" she asked.

          The sniper shook his head.  "Not real hungry."

          "You need to eat," she chided.  "Please?"

          He nodded.  "If you will."

          She set out the food on the table, made tea, then carried the steaming mugs back to the table, setting one next Benny Ray's plate.  They ate in silence, then cleared the table, rinsed the dishes, and returned to the sofa.

          They sat at opposite ends.  Margo broke the strained silence, saying, "I want you to listen to me, okay?"

          He nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

          "I love Matt; I have ever since we first met."

          He nodded again, still refusing to meet her gaze.

          "And I love you, too."

          That brought his head up.

"I've just been feeling so damned bad… I should've listened to you, Benny Ray," she admitted.  "I should've told Matt how I felt, but I was afraid to.  There are a lot of reasons why I didn't, but they're all _my_ reasons – things, issues I have to work out first…"  She scooted closer to him, their knees touching.  "I know this isn't going to make a lot of sense to you, but my feelings for Matt have nothing to do with what I feel for you."

          Without thinking he stretched his arm out along the back of the sofa, his fingers finding the nape of her neck.  Her whole body went still.

          "Maybe we shouldn't have let ourselves get this close.  God knows Matt's been trying to keep me at arms-length since the beginning," she said softly.  "But I can't change how I feel… and I–"  She sighed, forcing the words out.  "I want to be with you tonight…  I want to love you, and I want you to love me."

          Benny Ray hesitated, too aware of Margo's pulse, leaping beneath his palm, and her growing tension to think of anything else.  She was coiled to spring.  He knew that she was telling him the truth.  She wanted him, and she was terrified of freezing up again.  But he knew exactly how little he had to offer her long term, short term, any term.

But she was also trembling, and he'd lost all tolerance for Margo trembling because of him, which was why that first kiss was absolutely, irrevocably, inarguably necessary.

          The taste of him flooded her senses, wooed her heart and her head.  Benny Ray had a wicked, wicked tongue, a tongue that should be outlawed.  But she loved it.  His kisses trailed into her hair, lost themselves in the hollow of her throat.

          "You're going to make love to me," she said softly when the assault stopped.

Taking his hand and standing up, she led him upstairs to her room.  She stopped breathing when he slid the blouse from her shoulders.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," he said.

          "I do."

          His lips skimmed from her throat to the first swell of her breasts, and he heard her breath catch.  "You want Matt, not me."

          "I want you, Benny Ray Riddle.  Right now, you're the only one I want, I swear."

          She seemed to be becoming bare, very fast.  His eyes had turned liquid, dangerously intense, bluer than midday.  His arousal was like steel.

          Dark sensations were singing through her body.  She was standing at the edge of a precipice.  The feeling was heady.  But there was a nightmare quality to it, too.  She didn't want to fall.  What if Matt didn't understand?  What if Benny Ray couldn't handle it if she and Matt were also together?  What if she had to choose?

          His next words made her wonder if she'd asked the questions aloud.  "You do whatever you have to, ya hear?  I'll always be here, if ya need me."

          Blinding tears stung her eyes and without a second's hesitation, she climbed onto her bed and lay down on her back.  She opened her arms for him and he came to her.

Her hands roamed his back, his sides, anywhere she could touch.  His mouth took hers over and over.  She grappled for the control that was slipping away from her as his hands wooed her.

          "Forget about it now, let it go," he urged.

          He wrapped her close, holding her hard, tight.  She clung to him in reply, knowing he had told her the truth.  He would be there whenever she wanted him, no matter what she did or decided.  She wouldn't lose him.  At least she wouldn't lose him…

          Benny Ray knew the exact moment she made the realization.  "Never," he whispered.

          Her kisses flowed over him like smooth, dark honey.  Her eyes went lush and soft and he could taste yearning on her tongue.

          He stripped off his jeans, impatient with anything that separated him from Margo.  She was beautiful, inviting, vital.

          He took her with rich, dark emotion.  He plunged and withdrew, stroked and teased until her body grew taut and wild.  He saw the fire of want in her eyes, but he waited until he saw wonder.

          She cried out, uninhibited, sweet.  Release racked his body like the rush and row of tide, immutable, endless.  This was a crash of fire and ecstasy, of everything he wanted for Margo.  He wrapped her tighter yet and dragged a last kiss across her mouth.

          She heard his fierce low whisper, like a cry of despair, "How am I ever gonna be able to let ya go?"

          She gave him the only answer she had.  "I love you, Benny Ray."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          That night – several times – Benny Ray had proven that he was a difficult man to please.  He wasn't happy until she melted like butter, abandoned all rational sense.  He was intent on imprinting her permanently in his mind.  And he succeeded.

          After they'd made love the first time, he'd finally gotten her to talk about her feelings for him and for Matt, her fears of losing them both, her terror that he or Matt might ask her to choose.

          When he'd reached for her the second time, and the third, emotions of fire had turned into emotions of loving, wonder, softness.  She made love with her emotions laid bare, a naked vulnerability that stole his breath away.  Matt had no idea what he was in for, or what he was missing.

          He smoothed back her hair, memorizing her profile, the texture of her skin, her shape.  No one had eyes like Margo.  No one had fingers, a nose, dark arched brows like Margo.  He told himself a thousand times how impossible loving her, being with her, really was.  He had nothing to offer her; Matt had so much more.

          Margo watched the play of emotions on his face, and then she touched his cheek and said gently, "Don't worry about it, Benny Ray."

          "Worry 'bout what?"

          "Class," she said.  "That's what it comes down to.  But you have so much more to offer than you think you do."

          He dipped his chin and shook his head.

          "Yes, you do."  Her fingertip caressed the shape of his bottom lip.  "Besides, isn't this my choice?"

          He offered a half-shrug, but nodded that it was.

          "I chose to love you because of _who_ you are, not _what_ you are."

          Her mouth was sweet, tender, vulnerable.  He felt again, because of her.  He loved again because she refused to give him the choice not to.  But he still knew that when she finally told Matt what she wanted, the two of them would lose themselves in each other and he would be alone again.  Making love to her, he banished fear and shadows for a little longer.  For her, he wanted to believe in love.  For her, he wanted happiness, whatever form it took.

And Shepherd damn-well better live to give her that happiness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Benny Ray walked slowly down the stairs into the basement of the Silver Star.  The hope that had buoyed his spirit earlier had faded on the drive back from the hospital, leaving him depressed and sad.  He'd really hoped that Matt might respond to their peace offerings, but, if anything, the major had pushed them even further away.

          He didn't quite understand it.  Three months had passed, and the man's body was slowly healing, but his heart was another matter.  The fire he'd had as an operator seemed to be gone, and they were just a reminder of what he'd used to be, but no longer was.

          But by pushing the team away he was also pushing Margo away, and the sniper knew how much that was hurting the woman – more than Matt could possibly know.

          Benny Ray shook his head.  His plan to win Shepherd back wasn't going the way he'd hoped it would, and that only left one last possibility, one he'd been carefully holding back from the others, just in case what had happened, happened.  It was the plan he'd come up with after he'd spent an afternoon talking to Father Bob.[1]

          He sighed heavily.  It wasn't going to be easy.  He had to do it alone.  He couldn't tell the others what he had in mind, especially not Margo.  Her fear, her need for Matt to come to his senses, would make the whole con come off stiff and staged; they would all watch for his reactions too closely, too intently.  No, he had to do this himself and pray that it worked – for Matt's sake, as well as for Margo's.

          At the bottom of the basement stairs he paused.  The rhythmic slap of fists and feet on the body bag echoed though the otherwise silent, dimly lit space.  The sounds were sharp, angry, and he immediately knew who was beating the shit out of the defenseless bag: Margo.

          Walking to the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and took out a beer.  Twisting the top off, he carried it back out into the basement, leaning against the wall and watching Margo as she continued to attack the body bag.  Sweat flew off her face and arms each time she struck the heavy target.  Her hair was wet and stuck to her forehead, just like her sodden tank top clung to her back and breasts.  Even like that – or maybe especially like that, he thought – she was beautiful.  A pulse of desire shot through his groin.  Not for the first time he wished he had the courage to ask her to make love to him.  But he couldn't.

          Her light green eyes were narrowed and focused, seeing something or someone else as she continued her assault.  And the sniper decided he could make a good guess what it was she'd conjured in her mind's eye: the Herrera bitch, the one who had shot Matt.  Or maybe it was Grace, the buxom nurse who was currently sharing Matt's bed.  Probably both, given the beating the bag was taking.

          With one last, powerful punch, accompanied by a high-pitched and frustrated squeal, Margo stopped.  She bent forward, her hands braced just above her knees, and gulped in air.

          "Feel better?" he asked her.

          She twisted around just far enough to look at him for a moment, then admitted, "No."  Turning back, she continued to breathe heavily.

          Benny Ray walked over to her and held out the bottle.  Margo stared at it for a second or two, then took it, straightened, and guzzled half the contents without a breath before she handed it back, saying, "Thanks."

          The sniper fought back a grin.  "You're welcome."

          She started for the stairs, Benny Ray stopping her when he said, "He'll come 'round, just give him some more time.  You'll see."

          Turning to look at him, her eyes flashing with hurt and anger, Margo replied, "We're all out of time, Benny Ray.  Either we go get the Herreras, or we don't, and either way, it's over.  We can't come back here."

          He gave her a half-shrug in reply, dipping his head and silently praying that his idea worked, for all of their sakes.  He wanted to tell her that he'd still be there for her, but he wasn't sure she wanted him to be now.  Maybe she just wanted to cut her losses and make a fresh start someplace far away from all of them.

"Maybe," he said, "but it's been a helluva run while it lasted, ya gotta admit."

          That brought a small, wistful smile to her lips.  "Yes, it has…  I'm going to go take a shower."  She turned to go, then stopped and looked back at him, asking, "You want to go get something to eat?"

          "Sure," he said, knowing he'd better take whatever time he could with her while he had the chance.

          "Give me a few minutes to get ready."

          "Take as long as ya need," he said, lifting the bottle in a salute.  "I'll just finish this."

          She smiled and headed upstairs.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Margo was pleasantly surprised when Benny Ray drove them to D'Aquino's, a local Italian restaurant she loved, but which was a little on the expensive side.  She immediately amended her thought: it was a little classier than she expected from Benny Ray.  And that bothered her.  Maybe he was right, she thought.  Maybe she was more hung up on his class than she thought she was.

They sat at a small table in the corner, her favorite, in fact, and she guessed the sniper had tipped the maitre d' generously to get the secluded spot location on a busy night.

          The food was excellent, as always, and his choice of wine both surprised and delighted her.  It was exactly what she would have picked herself, and she wondered how he'd known what to ask for.  There were so many mysteries when it came to Benny Ray; she never knew just what to expect next from the man.

But spending time with him was like a balm to her soul right now, and she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the meal.  And the company.

By the time they were eating dessert she had convinced herself that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't lose everything after all. 

          When they were done, he drove her back to the Silver Star.  Ever since they had returned from Mexico she'd been staying at the renovated hotel.  It was closer to the hospital than her condo, and being there made her feel closer to Matt.  And, she admitted, she also needed to be close to Benny Ray.  They hadn't made love since just after Matt had been hurt, but it made her feel better knowing he was close by.

She climbed out of the Ram and waited for him to lock his door before they started for the building.  Looking up at the faded painting on the side of the building, she felt the tears welling up in her eyes.  She fought them back with a shake of her head, angry at herself for allowing her emotions to escape control for the first time since they'd known Matt was going to make it.  But she couldn't help it.  First she'd thought she was going to lose Matt to death, now it looked like she was going to lose him to apathy.  It wasn't right.

          "Margo?" Benny Ray asked.

          "I'm fine," she said, but it sounded like a lie, even to her.

          He unlocked the door and checked the security panel before turning on the lights in the basement and leading the way down the stairs. 

          In the basement, Margo paused, glancing around.  Unexpectedly, she felt her carefully constructed control crack, and a moment later she burst into tears.

          Benny Ray was instantly at her side.  "Margo?"

          She shook her head, unable to speak.

          He gathered her into his arms and guided her to the nearest sofa, helping her sit down and cuddling her in his arms while she sobbed uncontrollably.  She couldn't hear the words he was saying, but his softly whispered encouragement made her feel a little better.

          Several minutes later she regained enough composure to pull back and roughly wipe the tears off her face.  "Damn it," she hissed.  "I promised myself I wasn't going to do that anymore."

          "Nothin' wrong with it," Benny Ray assured her.

          She looked up.  "Yes, there is.  I don't see you sitting here bawling like a baby."

          His cheeks colored and the sniper dipped his head.  "Did it sittin' out on the beach in the middle of the night."

          Margo's eyes widened at the confession.  She remembered the morning Benny Ray had come in cold and shivering just after dawn.  At the time she'd thought he'd been out for a run.  That had been, what?  Two, maybe three days earlier?

          "You okay?" he asked her.

          She nodded, leaning into his shoulder.  "Just wishing things were different."

          "Yeah," he said with a nod, "I know what you mean."

          "It's terrible, but if we're going to lose him, I almost wish it–"  She broke off, unable to finish the comment.  She couldn't wish Matt dead, no matter what happened to the rest of them.

          "Don't give up yet," he encouraged again.

          She wiped her eyes again.  "Damn, I don't think I've cried this much since I was in puberty," she complained.

          He grinned at her.  "I know the feelin'."

          She grinned back, shaking her head.  "Why does life have to be so damned complicated?"

          "You're askin' me?" he returned, then shook his head.  "I think ya better ask Father Bob that one."

          "Who?"

          Benny Ray realized his mistake, but it was too late.  He'd have to tell her, because she wouldn't let it go until he did.  "He's the priest who runs that center down the street."

          Her eyes rounded.  "You're Catholic?"

          "No," the sniper said, "just went lookin' for a quiet place to think one day and I found the chapel.  The padre's an old Marine Ranger… we talked."

          Margo cocked her head to the side.

          "What?" he asked, wishing he could fidget.

          She smiled and shook her head, realizing for the first time just how deeply she truly cared for the sniper.  Her eyes suddenly went wide with surprise and need.  Standing, she offered her hand to him.  He took it, rising.

"What?" he asked.

Moving closer, she leaned forward, brushing his lips with hers.  He moaned softly and took her into his arms.  Margo had no intention of resisting and she shivered with pleasure when he nuzzled the sensitive hollow at the side of her neck.  His hand cupped her breast through her thin cotton shirt and she ran her fingers over the short but thick hair at the back of his neck.

He moved his head just enough to murmur, "Margo, I don't know–"

"Shh," she silenced him as she continued to stroke his hair.  "I do."

He lifted his head and looked down at her.  They were standing so close he could almost feel the heat mounting in waves between them as their gazes locked. Despite her bravado, he could see tears, and desire, brimming in the deep, green pools of her eyes.

His hands were moving restlessly over her and his lips moved over hers lightly, then pressed against them.  Little pinpricks of fire licked at Margo's nerve endings as she wound her arms more tightly around his neck.  And then he pulled her into his arms and really kissed her.  It was a long, savagely hungry kiss.

Almost immediately he felt her respond, her body molding itself against his.  It was a perfect fit and he lost himself in it.  Her arms pulled more strongly at his neck and as he urged her lips apart with his, the kiss became desperately urgent for both of them.

Allowing her own lips to part, Margo savored his probing tongue.  They both shifted so that their bodies meshed and the pinpricks of fire became flames as she felt his hard, driving need for her.

Her answering moan sent a sweet agony of desire knifing through him and he moved so he was speaking against the corner of her mouth, his voice was husky with desire.  "Margo, we gotta stop…"

"No," she replied, the same sweet fire now engulfing her.  "Don't you get it?  I want _you_.  _Now_."

With a low moan, his mouth once again claimed hers and she felt him fumbling with the buttons of her blouse, which defeated him.  With a groan of frustration, he tugged the garment free from her jeans so he could touch the bare flesh underneath.  Margo cuddled closer, finishing what he'd started.

He pushed the blouse off, then unfastened her bra, his hands stripping off the lace garment and sending shivers of longing through her.  His hand closed around her breast, taking possession of her, body and soul.  Under his pleasuring stroke, her nipple hardened instantly and they both knew that this time there would be no retreat, no regret, and no barrier to their shared passion.

Already she was groping at his shirt, until together they stripped it off his shoulders.  She immediately sought his chest, burying her fingers in the thick thatch of brown hair.

By the time they reached his bedroom, his shoes and socks were tossed to the four corners, his pants were unzipped and his arousal was evident.  He sat on the edge of the bed, grabbed her and lifted her across his lap, holding her there as he kissed her again, his arousal pressing against her jeans.

His kisses were like a potent drug, making her lightheaded.  The kisses were tender at first, but then deepened and became more intimate as he caressed her body.  His mouth followed his hands, taking possession of her soft, white breasts and the rosy nipples that hardened further under the touch of his tongue.

Her lips teased along his collarbone and his hands gently kneaded her thighs, inching upward until she throbbed with need as he rubbed along the soft denim.  Her fingers roamed up and down his spine, and his mouth claimed hers again, with passion.

          Seconds later, the bed creaked in protest as he fell on top of her, his hands trapping her face beneath his.  For a moment they clung to each other, savoring the currents of intense feeling that flowed between them.  Then Benny Ray relaxed his hold and moved to stand, unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them off.  Her lacy underwear followed.  Then he lay beside her on the bed.  He nuzzled her jaw line and her arms stole around him, reveling in the response of the well-developed muscles of his back under the caress of her palm.

          With a groan he enclosed her in his arms.  He rained kisses over her face before attacking her mouth with a hunger that could not be tamed.  Margo held him tightly and arched her body against his, crushing her breasts against his chest as his hand found her bare leg and started to work its way upward.

          She fell back and, with trembling fingers, she ran her hands though the hair on his broad chest, her fingers teasing the two hard nubs she found buried there.  Her body was ready for him.  She couldn't wait, his slow strokes already driving her mad with pleasure and desire.

"Now," she moaned, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

With his mouth covering hers and his hands buried in her hair, he thrust into her so deeply that she cried out against his lips.

He froze.  "Did I hurt you?" he asked in a strangled whispered.

"No… oh no…"

It only took one look at her face to tell him that it wasn't pain that had made her cry out, but pleasure – with him, with what he was doing to her.

She was already moving in spite of him, matching agony for agony.  United, they fanned the flames that roared between them, white-hot and consuming.

He let her take him to the very brink and surrendered himself to the fall.  In a frenzy he took control and plunged them both over the cliff.  The drop was dizzying.  The landing left them weak and exhausted.

          She hugged him tightly, wanting never to have to let him go.

          One hand came up to close over hers, holding it steady above his heart, pressed against the warmth of his chest.  She felt the steady beat of his heart beneath their entwined fingers.  Then she met his gaze.

          Benny Ray wasn't smiling.

          "What?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

          He blinked, his expression shifting, hiding what she had seen.  "Nothin'."

          He was still buried inside of her and she tightened her grip on him, making him close his eyes and groan softly.  "Tell me," she ordered.

          He dipped his head, brushing his lips lightly against her shoulder while he enjoyed the feel of her hands rubbing lightly over his butt.

          "Just thinkin' how much you–"  he stopped, tenderly kissing the side of her neck.

          "What?" she asked again, her hips beginning to circle slowly as she felt him begin to swell, filling her again.

          "I was just thinkin' how much ya mean t' me," he finally admitted.

          She smiled, arching against him, crushing her breasts to his chest as he nibbled lightly on her earlobe.  "Tell me," she whispered.

          He moved, leaving her ear, kissing her temple, her eyes, her chin.  His tongue traced along her lower lip.  "Can't."

          "Why?" she asked, wrapping her legs around his waist, burying him deeper inside of her.

          "Hurt too much when I lose you," he breathed, reaching down to cup her buttocks, squeezing her cheeks and sliding into her with slow, powerful strokes.

          Her eyes opened, her gaze locking on his.  "You're not going to lose me, Benny Ray."

          He smiled at her.  It was an indulgent smile; he didn't believe her.  Rising, he caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples until she was forced to close her eyes again.  She let go of his waist, bending her knees and using the extra leverage to lift her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.

          A moment later they were tumbling into endless waves of pleasure.

          When they could move again, Benny Ray got them into bed where he held Margo cuddled in his arms.  She sighed contentedly, falling into sleep almost immediately.

In the darkness he continued to hold her, wondering if it would be the last time…

  


* * *

[1] See "Guilty Conscience"  


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